


It Took a Rumor

by AlyKat



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: 5+1 Fic, Assumed Relationship, First Kiss, M/M, Trip and Malcolm are oblivious dorks, actual relationship, kudos to anyone who catches my Quantum Leap line, loosely based on a Bonnie Raitt song, post Shuttlepod One, post The Catwalk, post The Communicator, post Two Days and Two Nights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9386111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyKat/pseuds/AlyKat
Summary: 5 times people assumed Trip and Malcolm were a couple1 time they finally wised up to what everyone saw all along.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Very loosely based on the old Bonnie Raitt song, "Something to Talk About". I heard that song on the radio not long ago, and Trip and Malcolm instantly came to mind. It just fits them so perfectly! I had to write this! It's not beta'd, and I apologize for that. I was too excited to get it finished and posted. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Not my toys, I'm just playing with them.

1.

_ Enterprise _ hadn’t even left spacedock before Commander Charles “Trip” Tucker III and Lieutenant Malcolm Reed were at each other’s throats. Their bickering had already become quite the talk of the Engineering and Armory departments, respectively. No one ever really heard what would start the arguments, or what they were even really about, they all just knew that when the Commander and Lieutenant were storming by, frustrations and barely concealed anger evident on their faces, the best anyone could do would be to give them some space and pretend like nothing had happened. 

Crewman McKenna watched one such spat from her spot in Engineering. She had been installing power coupling upgrades when she heard the clipped tones coming towards her. New to the ship, she lifted her head from the console she’d been working at and watched in amusement as the two men went thundering by, steps in sync and shoulders brushing as they both motioned animatedly with their hands. A fond smile spread across her face and she found herself chuckling softly. 

“What’s so funny?” 

Michael Rostov, another Engineering Crewman, stepped up beside her, curious as a cat. McKenna smiled brightly at him before nodding in the direction that Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed had gone. 

“Those two. They’re so cute together! They remind me of my dads. Always finding something to argue about one minute, then turning around and joking the next. It’s sweet!” 

Rostov stared in disbelief. He blinked twice, shook his head, and blinked again. 

“You think they’re cute  _ together _ ? As in  _ together _ together?”

“As in, they’re probably the cutest couple I’ve seen on board and I’m happy Starfleet is actually letting them serve together, yeah!”

What was so hard to understand about that? McKenna wondered. 

“You think they’re a couple?”

“What’s with you, Rostov? Of course I do. They’re pretty obvious about it, aren’t they?”

As Rostov opened his mouth to respond, a new voice joined them and both Crewmen instantly snapped to attention. Lieutenant Jill Hess, Commander Tucker’s second in command, moved to stand beside McKenna, her head cocked curiously. “The Commander and Lieutenant aren’t a couple, Crewman.” 

McKenna’s jaw dropped, pink brushed across her cheeks in embarrassment. “They aren’t?”

“No. Not that I know of, at least.”

“But...but they fight like an old married couple! I thought...I mean…”

Hess smiled faintly and squeezed the younger Crewman’s shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re not the only one who swore those two were a couple. But as far as I know, they’re not. Now, let’s finish up these power couplings and we can move on to checking the warp coils. Rostov, don’t you have things to be doing?”

With a swift nod, and a quick, “Yes, ma’am,” Rostov turned and hurried back to his own work station. Waiting until he had returned his attention to his duties, Hess leaned in against McKenna’s shoulder and whispered, “Don’t worry. I think they make a cute couple, too.” 

Giggling, McKenna stole a glance towards her Commander’s office where Tucker and Reed had disappeared into and watched as the two, apparently done fighting, smiled and laughed over some unknown joke before Reed made his exit. They really did remind her of her dads back home in Iowa. Somehow, that helped to ease her homesickness just a little bit more. And at least now she knew she wasn’t the only one who thought they made a cute couple!

* * *

2.

Trip sat with his back to the door of the mess, his attention almost completely focused on the PADD in front of him. He had plenty to catch up on after being laid up for a few days thanks to that damned shuttlepod. Now, his first day back on full active duty, he had been trying his best to get through the reports that had been stacking up, and only vaguely heard the laughter of crewmates as they came tumbling into the room. 

“I’m tellin’ you! They’ve gotta be at least sleeping together! They’re always eating breakfast or lunch together!” 

“So are we, but we’re sure as hell not sleeping together!”

“Not for lack of trying!”

The hairs on the back of Trip’s neck rose and he quirked a brow as he continued to read. Okay, so, his attention had been slightly thrown off course. What could you expect? Apparently there was a new possible couple onboard! He wanted to find out who.

“They do tend to call each other by their first names during mealtimes. And usually when they’re eating together, it’s just the two of them. But that still doesn’t prove anything.”

Trip frowned in thought, quickly sorting through his memory of who he’d seen in the mornings and at lunch that were always sitting together, and usually by themselves. No one really came to mind. Unless it was Rostov and Kelly? He’d seen them together a few times. More than a few times, actually, now that he really thought about it. In fact, they did seem to spend quite a bit of time together. And he thought he’d heard her call him Michael before. 

It had to be Rostov and Kelly, then. 

Smirking to himself, he turned his attention back to his PADD and absently picked up his glass of milk. He didn’t drink it right away, though he did hold it to his lips as he continued reading, and as the small group of unknown crewmates moved to sit at a nearby table, still carrying on their conversation about Rostov and Kelly. 

“There’s no way! I was there! I saw them! They were not naked! Cuddled together, sure! Sharing their blankets, yes! But they were  _ not _ naked!”

“Damn shame, that. What? Don’t give me that look! You’d like it, and you know it!”

Trip huffed softly, rolled his eyes, and finally drew in a long sip from his milk while the group chatted. Not that he was eavesdropping on them or anything. They just  _ happened _ to be talking loud enough, and he just  _ happened _ to be sitting close enough, that he heard every word they said.

“Besides,” the one continued in a matter-of-fact voice, “they obviously didn’t do any survival training in the arctic! If they had, they would have known that it’s a well known fact, in sub-zero temperatures, the best way to keep warm with someone else is to share body heat. Ergo, be naked together. And with those two, I doubt it would have really been a hardship.”

“Oh God! Could you imagine? I don’t think Lieutenant Reed would even know how to suggest something like that! And if it’d been Commander Tucker who suggested it, he probably would have been punched!” 

Trip choked on his milk, his eyes bulging clear out of his skull.  _ Them _ ?! Those folks were talking about him and  _ Malcolm _ ?! No. No, that couldn’t be right. The conversation must have changed! There was no way they were suggesting that he and Malcolm were --

“But see? That’s why I think they’re sleeping together!”

Trip coughed harder, beating his own chest with a closed fist as he gasped for air. 

“No, if they were sleeping together, they probably would have been naked in the shuttlepod. I mean, c’mon. You’re pretty convinced you’re gonna die. It could be your last precious few hours together. You’d get naked and  _ share body heat _ with the person you’re sleeping with, too.”

_ Oh God! Oh God, Oh God, Oh God! Make it stop!  _ Trip screwed his eyes shut as he coughed a couple more times, racking his brain trying to think of how he could make a hasty retreat out of there without being noticed. 

“Yeah, but I’ve seen them together enough times. You can’t convince me they’re not at least secretly together. They probably don’t want anyone to find out. I mean, they are different ranks, and all. And you know how gung-ho Lieutenant Reed is about regulations.  _ That’s _ probably why they weren’t naked under the blankets.”

Blood roared past Trip’s ears and he swore the whole ship had tilted on its side. He really should get down to engineering and check that out! It could be something wrong with one of the nacelles. Or the artificial gravity could be out of whack again! What he wouldn’t give for an alien attack! Or a first contact! Something! ANYTHING!

As if on cue, or maybe thanks to whatever deity there might be, a sudden shudder went through  _ Enterprise _ , followed closely by a call for all hands to report to their stations. A quick glance out the viewport, and Trip watched as a Suliban cell ship darted by before shimmering out of sight. Never before had he been so glad to see ol’ Silik and his cronies! 

The group of, clearly confused, crewmates bolted out the door in front of Trip, never glancing back to see who had been leaving with them. Fine by Trip! He didn’t want them to see the milk he’d coughed up all over his uniform, or the bright pink that covered from his chest to his hairline! 

Lord but Archer was going to have a good long laugh about this when Trip told him later! 

Then again, maybe he’d just do his best to forget he’d heard anything at all! That might be for the best. 

* * *

3.

Captain Archer smiled as he looked around the observation lounge and watched as his crew of humans mingled and laughed with the crew of the Morian ship they’d encountered. It was nice to finally stumble upon an unknown race who was out exploring space just the same as they were. The Morian were almost attractive in their own unique way; tall and graceful, the females of their species with long, flowing silver hair, the males with shorter, pure snow white colored hair. Their eyes, though large and dark, showed compassion and curiosity like that of a young child. Humanoid enough to look past the distinct differences, it was no surprise that more than a few of his crew had fractioned off into quiet corners with one or two of the Morian. 

Well, so long as no one slipped away to the privacy of their quarters, or the Morian ship, Archer supposed everything would be fine. He didn’t particularly care to find out just  _ how _ compatible their species were together. The accidental pregnancy of Trip from the Xyrillian female had been bad enough. They didn’t need a repeat. In any form.

Which, reminded him. Brow creased and slight frown in place, Jonathan Archer scanned the crowded room until he finally laid eyes on his younger friend. Standing in a small group, Trip had his arms folded over his chest as he laughed at what had been said. To the casual observer, he’d look at ease and comfortable. Jonathan wasn’t a casual observer. He’d known Trip long enough to pick up on the man’s tells. Even from a distance. His shoulders were too stiff, for one thing. They should have been relaxed and sloped, not back in a modified at attention pose. There was a tightness to his face that Jonathan couldn’t put his finger on, and it seemed to deepen every so often, though he didn’t see a reason why it would. Something didn’t appear to be sitting right with Trip, and that set off every warning bell in Jonathan’s head. 

He had just set his glass of Morian Ale down when Captain Janeel sidled up beside him with a pleasant smile on her face. Well, so much for going to find out what was bothering Trip. 

The pair shared stories of their homeworlds and their crews for quite some time before a soft trill noise bubbled out of the Morian. Her eyes were focused over Jonathan’s shoulder, and as he turned, he saw what she had been looking at. Trip had excused himself from the group he’d been with and gone on to stand with another, smaller, cluster. One that consisted of Malcolm Reed and two Morian females. 

Suddenly, the warning bell that had been going off in his head earlier began ringing all the louder. It warmed him to know that Trip had managed to break Malcolm out of his carefully constructed protective shell, had even managed to become very good friends with the English tactical officer, but those two had several very good reasons for why they’d been dubbed the Disaster Twins. Trouble -- always with a capital T -- followed them wherever they went. In fact, from what Jonathan had heard, the last time the two of them were alone with females of a different species, it ended in his two senior officers being stunned, mugged, and tied up together in the basement of a nightclub. In nothing but their Starfleet Blues. Neither of them willing to discuss how or why it happened. 

“Uh, I think --” 

“It’s so pleasing to see ours is not the only race to embrace all that is love.” Captain Janeel’s melodic voice cut in over Archer’s, covering anything he might have said as she continued to watch the four. “Saphora and Delphine have been a pair for nearly five cycles. How long for yours?”

Jonathan blinked, jaw slightly slack as he stared at Janeel, dumbfounded. “I’m...sorry? My what?”

Janeel’s dark eyes met Jonathan’s jade eyes, confusion evident in both. “Your men. The ones you called Tucker and Reed.”

“What about them?”

“They are a pair, are they not?”

Oh, they were a pair all right! A pair of troublemakers! A pair of brilliant minds that came up with some incredible advancements for not only  _ Enterprise _ , but for the whole of Starfleet! Something deep down told Jonathan that wasn’t quite what Janeel was meaning, though. 

“Well, they...they’re, uhm…by ‘pair’, do you mean, partners?”

For a moment, Janeel simply stared at Jonathan, her head cocked and large eyes blinking owlishly. Finally, she gave a slow nod. “A pair. Two souls as one who journey together. Where one goes, the other follows.”

It took every ounce of decorum Jonathan had not to burst out laughing.  _ Ooohhh, boy! _ Trip was going to  _ love _ hearing that one! With a quiet cough, he cleared his throat and forced himself to keep a straight face as he asked, “How do you, I mean, what makes you think Tucker and Reed are a pair, as you say?”

Again, Janeel stared at him as if he’d just asked the most obvious question in the world. “Are they not a pair? They have hardly been apart for more than a few minutes at a time, and Tucker stands close to Reed as Delphine does to Saphora.”

Glancing over his shoulder again, Jonathan watched his friends closer for a moment while Janeel continued to explain how she’d come to her conclusion. They were standing awfully close to each other, shoulders bumping each time one of them moved or laughed. Which, now that Trip was standing next to Malcolm, he looked more relaxed. His arms hung down at his sides, hands tucked into the pockets of his uniform. His smile was natural, and he seemed to brighten up any time Malcolm flashed a megawatt grin. 

“Their souls are as one. It is hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. Can you not feel their happiness? Hear the song that surrounds them when they stand together?”

While Jonathan couldn’t feel or hear anything more than what he normally could, he did have to admit that there was something different about the two men when they were together. Thinking back through his memories, he brought to mind all the times he found them sharing meals, sitting or standing by each other during staff meetings or on movie nights. How they followed each other, often times bickering, from the armory to engineering; the way Trip always stood over Malcolm’s left shoulder whenever he was on the bridge, despite having his own engineering station not more than ten steps to Malcolm’s right. 

Maybe Janeel was onto something. While a part of him scoffed at the idea that Trip would keep a relationship a secret from him, a larger part continued to scroll through the evidence and had him wondering if maybe the pair -- more specifically  _ Malcolm _ \-- were keeping things under wraps out of fear of what people might say. Or perhaps it was still new enough, fragile enough, that they didn’t want anyone to know and risk the bubble bursting. 

It was possible that Jonathan needed to have a talk with his Chief Engineer soon. 

* * *

4.

Maggie Tucker smiled over the rim of her coffee cup. The pictures her son had sent her played across the screen of her data padd. Oh the wonderful, strange new worlds Trip was getting to explore! So vastly different from Earth, and yet, so beautiful and majestic. Of course, she loved seeing the photos he took of his friends and crewmates, each one accompanied with a quick caption:  _ Hoshi Sato, linguist extraordinaire! _ ,  _ Porthos hard at work. Being this cute is RUFF! _ ,  _ Malcolm needs a nap… _ ,  _ Malcolm REALLY needs a nap! _ ,  _ Guess who finally got his nap? _ ,  _ Jon and Porthos run free! _ ,  _ Malcolm never knew what -- or WHO -- hit him! _ ,  _ Shore leave! And we didn’t get mugged! Sunburned, but not mugged! _

For every one picture of various crewmates, there were at least two of Malcolm Reed. It warmed her heart to know that Trip had found someone who made him truly happy. While he hadn’t flat out told her that he was with the smaller, dark haired, handsome Lieutenant, she knew. A mother always knew. No matter how secretive her kids thought they were being. It showed in the ways Trip wrote about Malcolm, in the way he captured the man in pictures. The way Malcolm looked whenever he caught Trip taking his picture. The exasperated fondness in his bright grey-blue eyes, no matter how displeased his expression might have been.

They weren’t exactly subtle. 

A quiet shuffling behind her signaled her husband’s entrance, followed by a light kiss to the top of her head as he moved to sit at the table beside her. They shared a soft smile of hello before Maggie nudged the padd over to him. 

“Trip sent us another letter. And more pictures.”

Charles Jr, hummed in acknowledgement as he watched the pictures scroll by. He chuckled over his coffee at the one of Trip leaping onto Malcolm’s back. They stood on a beach somewhere, the water pale pink as it washed to shore around Malcolm’s ankles. The smaller man hunched under the sudden weight he was carrying. 

“How’re the boys doin’? Keepin’ each other outta trouble?”

“Not from the sounds of it. Malcolm and Jon nearly got themselves hanged on a pre-warp planet. Trip sounded pretty shook up ‘bout it.” Maggie reached for the padd, bringing the letter up for her husband to read. “All because poor Malcolm lost his communicator on the planet. That poor boy. He bears the weight of the world whenever something out of his control happens.”

“He’s got a good heart,” Charles answered absently as he read what his oldest son had sent. “Least he’s got Trip to help carry that guilt. Ease it for him.”

Nodding, Maggie stood, gathering up her empty cup and made her way to the sink. “I’m just hoping next time they’re back this way, we’ll finally get to meet him. Lord knows Trip talks about him enough, sends us enough pictures, I feel like we’ve known him since they were just kids, but…”

Charles chuckled, finishing Maggie’s thought for her. “But it’ll be nice to finally meet the man Trip’s so crazy about.” 

“Exactly.”

“Well.” Pushing up from the table, Charles left the padd where it sat in favor of taking his cup to the sink. He paused to kiss Maggie’s temple gently. “I just hope we get to meet him before Jon goes and officiates anythin’, and not after.”

“That, too.”

* * *

5.

“Hullo, Malcolm! Oh! You’re all dressed up! What’s the occasion?” 

Malcolm paused to glance down at the clothes he’d changed into once his shift was finished before looking back to his computer screen. His lovely and energetic younger sister stared back at him, an open smile pulled across her face. Even with deep space separating them, her piercing blue eyes twinkled with endless mirth. 

Shaking his head, Malcolm tugged the bottom of his favorite soft tan jumper into place and settled himself at his desk. “No occasion. I’ve just gotten off duty, and I do happen to enjoy wearing something other than my uniform from time to time, you know.”

“But you’re all dressed up! Stand up! Let me take another look at you.”

“Mads, really.”

“Really! Stand up! Let me see!”

How in the world Malcolm was related to the little ball of fire that was Madeline Reed, he’d never know. They were as different as night and day, with only their shared love of reading in common, it seemed. Where he was introverted and quiet, slow to warm to people and even slower to give his trust, Madeline was open and friendly to all she met. She knew no strangers, only friends she’d yet to get to know. 

With a long suffering sigh, and with muscles that protested a bit too much, he pushed himself from his chair and stood back, arms spread wide so that Madeline could see his full attire. Soft, warm, tan jumper that fit him just right -- not too small that it was tight, and blessedly not so large that he was swimming in it, and his slate grey slacks. His dark hair was still damp from his shower and curled rather rebelliously across his forehead and at his temples. Much to his infinite disgust. 

Madeline’s smile grew as she wiggled in her desk chair. “You look splendid! Are you sure there’s no occasion? Maybe you should make one up just to be seen.” 

Malcolm rolled his eyes. His arms dropped back down to his sides and he slipped back into his own chair with a huff. “I make it part of my duty to not be seen. Why should I make up a reason  _ to be _ seen?”

“Because you’re my brother and you’re a handsome devil who  _ needs  _ to be seen.”

“So you say. If you must know, it’s movie night here and since I had the time between the end of my shift and the start of the movie, I thought I’d at least shower and change for once before I go. It’ll be dark in the mess, anyway. No one will  _ see _ anything except the movie screen.”

With a click of her tongue, Madeline shook her head. “Much the loss.”

The chime to Malcolm’s room sounded before he had a chance to answer. Already knowing who it was going to be, he cast only a cautionary glance to the door before calling for his visitor to enter. A moment later, Trip Tucker strolled into the room. Freshly showered if his darkened, wet blonde locks were anything to go by, and dressed in a clean pair of darker grey slacks and a pale blue button up that brought out the color of his eyes. 

“Hey, Malcolm. You ready to...oh. Sorry. Didn’t know you were talkin’ t’ anybody.” Trip glanced to the monitor, only to smile brighter and move to stand directly behind Malcolm’s chair. Bending down put his head next to Malcolm’s and his cool, minty breath breezed over Malcolm’s neck gently. “Well, hey! Hi there, Maddie!”

“Trip! Hullo! How have you been? Are you the one taking Malcolm to the movie tonight?”

“ ‘Course I am! Picked it out special, just for him! Lots of explosions.” 

If Madeline’s grin could have gotten any bigger, it would have split her face clear in two. The look in her eyes made Malcolm’s blood run cold. He could see the gears turning in her head. There were far too many times when his sister and best friend were far too much alike. 

“Uh, you go on ahead, Trip. I need to find my shoes and socks yet. I’ll be right there.” 

Pushing away from the back of the chair, Trip dropped his hands to Malcolm’s shoulders, gave them a squeeze and gentle shake, before stepping away. “Yeah, alright. I’ll meet ya in there. Popcorn, lots of butter, little bit of salt.” He grinned, his attention turned to the screen again. “Take care, Maddie!” 

“You too, Trip! Hope to see you in person next time you two are Earthbound!” 

With a grin and a wink, Trip turned, slipping out the door without another word. Malcolm’s room was dead silent for a long, heart-stopping moment, before Madeline finally spoke again.

“So. You and Trip make a cute pair.”

“Madeline. Don’t. We’re not--”

“Oh, Malcolm! Please! I  _ know _ you! Your face got all bright and positively giddy looking as soon as Trip stepped through the door!”

Malcolm scoffed as he stood, his back to his desk to keep his ever, and frankly  _ overly _ , observant sister from seeing the flush that had colored his cheeks. He didn’t want to admit she had been right. If he admitted she’d been right, then he’d have to admit to himself that he felt a silly, giddy rush anytime he was around Trip. That his pulse quickened whenever Trip clapped him on the shoulder or gave him a wide, bright smile. He couldn’t admit to that, because Trip was his friend. His  _ best _ friend, and it had been far too many years since he’d last been able to say someone was truly his best friend. 

“He knows how you like your popcorn. Not even mum knows that!” Continued Madeline. The woman’s tenacity was infuriating sometimes. “ _ And _ you let him not only stand behind, but stand  _ closely _ behind you, and touch you. All things anyone else would have found themselves promptly on their backs, if not in the sickbay, for trying.”

“You’re over-exaggerating. I wouldn’t put anyone in the sickbay for standing behind me.”

“Trevor Delray. Twelfth year. He stood behind you and tapped you on the shoulder. It took the school nurse two full minutes to wake him up.”

Turning at the waist, Malcolm balked at the screen. “ _ That _ was an  _ accident _ ! And you full well know that!”

Madeline crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged. “Still. You can’t fool me, Mally. You two are together, whether you’re going to admit it to me or not.” With a frown, Madeline glanced to the corner of her screen, sighing. “I’ve got to go. And I suppose I shouldn’t keep you from your Mr. Tucker.”

It was useless to try and correct her at this point. Malcolm simply rolled his eyes and shook his head in resignation. Let her believe what she wanted, what harm could come from it? He was well over a hundred light-years away, it wasn’t like he could be hounded for information every two minutes like he would be if he were still on Earth. Besides, by the time he did manage to get back to Earth, there was a good chance Madeline will have forgotten all about it. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

“Call me later, yeah?” 

Nodding, Malcolm gave a small smile. “Of course.”

“And for God’s sake, Malcolm, at least  _ write _ to mum! She’s convinced you’re dying out there or something.” 

“I do write her,” Malcolm protested. “Talk to our father about why she doesn’t seem to be getting any of my letters.” 

Sadness drifted across Madeline’s face. She reached out, touching just the tips of her fingers to her screen. His chest suddenly tight, Malcolm sighed softly and did the same. Lord knew his younger sister wore him out with her exuberance, but he loved her dearly, and she him. There was only a scant fourteen months that separated them, and Madeline had always done her best to comfort her shy, quiet older brother when their father came down on him harshly. Malcolm missed that. Missed her. 

“I’ll keep in touch, Mads. I will. Promise. Give mum my love?”

“Obviously,” Madeline answered with a small smile. “Love you, Mally. Stay safe out there.”

With a nod, Malcolm kept his fingers pressed to his screen until it had gone black, and only his forlorn reflection was left staring back at him. Finally alone in his silent room, Madeline’s words replayed through his mind. Trip did know how he liked his popcorn, and always made sure whenever they sat next to each other for the movie that it was done just right. And, after all the times of having Trip standing just slightly behind and to the side of him on the bridge, Malcolm had come to realize that having Trip behind him wasn’t something that made him uncomfortable and terrified as it once did if anyone else stood behind him, he found Trip’s presence there comforting. Trip was safe. He wasn’t going to do anything to hurt Malcolm. 

Malcolm scoffed to himself, shaking the thoughts from his brain. He needed to hurry if he was going to make it to the movie in time. Tugging his socks and shoes on quickly, he bolted out the door and down the corridor. 

* * *

1.

Trip sighed as he scooped his duffle bag up off the floor and slung it over his shoulder. After eight days being cooped up in the catwalk, it was good to be back in the corridors of the ship, breathing slightly fresher air than what was circulating around in the nacelle with eighty-two other crewmates, three new aliens, Phlox’s menagerie, oh, and of course Porthos. Truth be told, Trip was all too glad to be shuffling back to his quarters for a nice hot shower and a change of clothes. He didn’t mind camping, but “roughing it” in the catwalk hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park. 

It had brought a whole new meaning to the phrase “getting up close and personal” with people. 

Overall it hadn’t been terrible. Except for some whinings about the food being served, the lack of showers, a barely working toilet. Basically anything Malcolm could think of complaining over, he did. By the time the Captain gave the all clear for everyone to go back to their quarters and lives, Trip wasn’t sure if he was going to strangle Malcolm, or shove him up against a bulkhead and kiss the daylights out of him! 

It took a rumor to make Trip wonder about his and Malcolm’s friendship. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that he’d fallen and fallen hard for the smaller Englishman. Almost to the point of insanity. Everyday his thoughts kept drifting back to Malcolm, and when night time rolled around and he was finally able to get some sleep, his dreams had him waking up aching in very sensitive places. 

Something really needed to be done about all the scuttlebutt going around about them. Either Trip needed to find someway to put an end to it all without Malcolm finding out, or he needed to buck up the courage and confront Malcolm over it. Lord only knew what kind of reaction he’d get from Malcolm if he walked up to him and said, “Hey, so, get this! The entire crew seems to think you an’ me are sleeping together. Can you believe that?” He’d probably find himself sprawled on his ass with a sore jaw and Malcolm hovering over him. 

Trip froze mid-step and blinked quickly. That mental image was  _ not _ what he’d meant to picture! At all! 

With a frustrated growl, Trip let himself into his room. His duffle thudded against the wall by his bunk before landing and rolling off the mattress. He didn’t bother to pick it up and instead moved straight for the head. He needed that hot shower more than ever now! Though, given the way his thoughts kept veering into the proverbial gutter, a cold shower would probably be better.

Even under the spray of hot water, Trip’s mind kept drifting back to their time spent in the catwalk. At one point, him, Malcolm, Travis, and Hoshi had all been sitting around playing poker: Travis to his left, Hoshi sitting on her bunk to his right, and Malcolm smack dab in front of him. There was literally nowhere for Trip to look, except straight ahead, not unless he wanted to wind up with a crick in his neck or look suspicious and weird. So he sat with his chin propped on the heel of his hand, mustering up the best poker face he could manage, and kept his eyes either on his cards or on Malcolm.

Travis had just tossed in a ration of strawberry shortcake and Malcolm had raised him one of his beloved and treasured pineapple cobblers, to which Trip had hummed with intrigue. Hoshi tossed in her bet ( _ broccoli? _ ), Trip managed to tear his eyes away from Malcolm’s face to glance at her, absently tossing his own ration into the pile. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Malcolm shift and reach for his collar. Like it hadn’t been hot enough in there to begin with? With a disgusted sigh, Malcolm tugged the zipper of his flight suit down a little lower, then started in on the buttons of his black undershirt. Trip rubbed at his eyes and ducked his head, trying not to watch as Malcolm damn near started stripping right in front of him, and the worst part of it all? It was obvious that Malcolm had no idea what he was doing to Trip! 

He turned his attention back to his cards, though his mind wasn’t focusing on the game anymore. It had gotten stuck on that V of exposed skin just below Malcolm’s neck. And then the little bastard had to go and open his mouth…

_ “Guh. What I wouldn’t give for a shower right about now. _ ” Malcolm had muttered, which did not help Trip’s overactive imagination at all. When he glanced up from his cards again, Malcolm was smirking across at him.  _ “When this hand’s over, maybe you could look into building one.” _

Oh... _ Oh _ . Trip’s mind did a complete nose dive, and while it had clearly been said as a friendly jab, he found himself bristling and resorting to the only defense tactic he had right then. Bickering. He had to toss a barb back at Malcolm, if he didn’t, he was bound to give himself and his gutter brain away! 

_ “Would you like a sauna while I’m at it?”  _

Trip had looked back to his cards but he heard Travis snort softly. Stealing a glance to his left, he watched as Travis smirked across to Hoshi, his expression damn near screaming,  _ “See? Space Dads are at it again! Fighting like an old married couple!” _

Between Trip’s retort and Travis’s laughter, the teasing quickly fled from Malcolm’s demeanor. “ _ You knew we’d be stuck in here for over a week. You might have given a little thought to making it tolerable. _ ”

Tired, hot, and far more sexually frustrated than he cared to admit to being, Trip folded his cards together into one hand and glared back through narrowed eyes. “ _ I only had four hours, Malcolm. You’re lucky we’ve got a toilet. _ ”

“ _ Well I’ve obviously overestimated your people’s abilities when it comes to indoor plumbing. _ ” 

Now, whether Malcolm had meant that as a jab at Trip’s (damn fine, thank you very much) engineering crew, or at Trip’s Southern upbringing, he didn’t know. Honestly, it could have been either one. Or both. He wasn’t deaf, he heard what some of the others said about him when they thought he didn’t hear them. About Good Ol’ Trip Tucker from the Alabama/Florida line. Stereotypes still ran rampant when it came to the Southern states, and admittedly, they weren’t completely unwarranted, but what people forget is the fact Trip grew up on the Florida panhandle, right on the coast. His front yard damn near looked out onto the Gulf of Mexico. He’d grown up with all the amenities, including indoor plumbing. Still, any time a snide remark like that was thrown his way, Trip felt his ire spike. 

“ _ You wanna take a shower _ ?” At Malcolm’s eyebrow quirk and pursed lips, Trip bit out, “ _ Build one yourself _ .”

It had been sheer luck that Chef had picked that moment to come by with heated rations for them. Pot roast, again. Trip had thanked Chef for them, he was polite like that, and didn’t make a fuss about it. Unlike  _ some _ people. 

He had tried to keep his spirits up, his attitude positive, but between Malcolm’s complaining about not having a shower and pot roast again for the third time, and Hoshi grumbling about the choice of movie they were going to be showing that night (oh, and don’t even get Trip  _ started _ on Malcolm’s opinion about movie night in the catwalk!), it had been a serious struggle. Especially with the way Lieutenant Reed kept making his blood either run so hot it felt like he was burning from the inside out, or turn just as cold as an Andorian winter. 

Yet, just like all the times before when they went at each other’s throats, Malcolm put his aggravations aside to help Trip when something went wrong down in Engineering, and Trip in turn helped Malcolm with his EV suit when he and T’Pol went to shut down the warp core reactor while Archer distracted the alien militia that had invaded. And if his hand happened to linger on Malcolm’s arm, or slide down it gently as Malcolm turned, then no one needed to know. It was obvious Malcolm hadn’t noticed, at least. 

And when it came time for everyone to gather up to watch the movie, Trip found himself pressed in against Malcolm’s side. That had been both Heaven and Hell wrapped up in two square meters. Eventually, Malcolm had shifted so that he was squatted down behind the railing, his arms folded across the top bar, and chin resting on his hands as he watched the screen. One elbow still pressed against Trip’s own arm. It was hard to keep his mind on the movie, when all he really wanted to do was wrap his arms around Malcolm’s shoulders and pull him in close, bury his nose in that soft, thick, dark hair -- unwashed as it was. 

Just how pathetic and disgusting was that?

Trip shook his head at himself as he moved about his room, towel draped over his bare shoulders and sweats hung low on his hips, the cuffs dragging the floor and brushing the tips of his toes with each step. He had to get ahold of himself before he did something stupid, like show up at Malcolm’s door for no reason other than simply because he wanted to see him again. Eight days living in close confines, closer than what they were used to at least, made being apart now feel like a piece of him was missing. 

He’d just started mentally kicking himself while towel drying his hair when his door chimed. Pausing mid-ruffle, he glanced to the door, then the chrono at his bedside. 2230. There weren’t many people who’d show up at his door at that late an hour. Which meant it was probably Archer, most likely with a couple of beers in hand, wanting to discuss all that had happened while being confined in the catwalk. Any other time Trip would have welcomed that mild distraction from his arrant thoughts of the ship’s armory officer, but right then he didn’t want to talk about the neutronic storm that had driven them into the safety of the heavily shielded nacelle in the first place, or Tagrim and his crew that had warned them of the storm and sought shelter within  _ Enterprise _ , or the Takret Militia that boarded them during the storm. He just wanted to crawl into bed, shove his head under his pillow, and pray whatever dreams he had didn’t leave him a hard, aching mess in the morning. 

Towel still hanging over his head, one hand scrubbing at his nape, Trip opened the door, his resigned admission to just wanting to get some sleep ready on the tip of his tongue, and froze. Either he’d fallen asleep in the shower and was dreaming, or Jonathan Archer had shrunk a good four inches and become decidedly more slight in build. 

Grey-blue eyes snapped up to meet his own and Trip felt his breath catch in his chest. 

_ Or _ , his brain skidded to a screeching halt,  _ Malcolm Reed really is standing right in front of me in his pajamas. _

“Uh…”

“Sorry, Co -- Tri -- Com...sorry. I didn’t mean to...you’re obviously…I’ll just…”

Trip blinked to clear his vision and moving on instinct alone, snatched Malcolm’s arm before he could finish turning to make his retreat. Without thinking, he yanked his startled best friend into the room, letting the door whoosh shut behind them, and stood nearly chest to chest in the middle of his dimly lit room. It didn’t dawn on Trip that he was still holding Malcolm’s wrist until Malcolm cleared his throat and took a cautious step back, putting a respectable amount of distance between them. Only then did Trip slowly let go of his hold, awkwardly pulling the towel down off his head and letting it fall to his feet in a soggy heap. 

“Uh, somethin’ I can do for ya, Malcolm?” God, he hoped his voice didn’t really sound as thick and hopeful as it did in his head.  

Malcolm glanced to the floor quickly, his lips pressed to a thin, tight line, like he was trying to force back whatever retort really wanted to come out. When he finally looked up again, he lifted his right hand, holding up a carefully folded thin blue blanket. 

“I, uhm, I found this among my things, I thought it might be yours.”

Frowning in thought, Trip looked at the blanket and shook his head. He was almost positive he’d shoved his own into his duffle when he was packing up his gear back on the catwalk. “Not mine. Pretty sure that’s yours.” He motioned to his bag on the floor and shrugged. “Mine’s in there.”

“Oh.” Malcolm shifted on his feet, eyes turned back down to his hands.

A thought suddenly struck Trip, and while he didn’t want to get his hopes up, he couldn’t keep the teasing smirk off his face. “Malcolm? Did you stop by just to try and return something, or…?”

“I suppose I also wanted to...apologize.” Malcolm gave a slight flinch, as if whatever he was apologizing for was a physically painful memory. “For what I said in the catwalk, about overestimating you and your crew’s abilities. My behavior was abhorrent and I’ll understand if you wish to put me on report--”

Trip’s bark of quiet laughter cut Malcolm off before he could continue. When their eyes met again, Trip was smiling, one eyebrow raised. “When have I ever put you on report for being an insubordinate little shit?”

Malcolm stammered, clearly on the verge of protesting, before his shoulders sagged and his head drooped. A small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “You have a point,” he finally conceded, looking up at Trip from under his long, dark lashes. 

Something about that look, with that small uptick of a smile, had Trip’s heart playing hopscotch in his chest. He wanted to reach out and run his fingers down Malcolm’s arm, feel the softness of his grey T-shirt and the warmth of his skin underneath; brush his knuckles along the line of his sharp, square jaw. His entire right arm tingled with pent up anticipation. 

He took a moment to give Malcolm a quick once over. The faded and worn T-shirt, baggy dark grey sweats -- the Starfleet Training Center logo just barely visible still on his left hip, and socked feet. Gods but Trip loved seeing Malcolm out of uniform. In clothes that were obviously well loved and still carefully cared for. It made Malcolm look softer, more vulnerable and approachable. Strip away the uniform, the Lieutenant pips and phase pistol holster, and there was a frankly adorable man underneath. People always assumed Malcolm was most comfortable in uniform, even on his off days they rarely saw him in civvies, but Trip knew better. The Malcolm standing in front of him right then looked a thousand times more comfortable in his own skin than the Lieutenant Reed he’d have breakfast with in the mornings. 

Of course, this Malcolm also seemed to be taking in a slow inventory of Trip, too. It was only then, as he watched those bright grey-blue eyes darken to the color of storm clouds rolling in off the Gulf, that Trip realized he hadn’t yet put a shirt on. Gathering up his courage as best he could, he took a half a step closer, and when he spoke, he barely recognized the low, husky voice he heard. 

“Was there anythin’ else you wanted, Malcolm?”

Malcolm’s eyes snapped back to lock with his; it was like looking into two vats of molten platinum. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, lost in the depths of the other’s eyes. 

“I...no. I should probably go,” Malcolm murmured, yet made no attempt to head for the door. “People are going to talk. Me showing up here in the middle of the night in my sleep clothes…”

Swallowing thickly, Trip shrugged, gently wrapping his fingers around Malcolm’s wrist. He smiled some when he felt the steady thrum of pulse under his hand jump. With cautious movements, he moved half a step closer again, and then once more, until they were standing chest to chest again. 

“Y’ could stay, though. There’s gonna be talk anyway. Far as most of the ship’s concerned, we’ve been secretly sleepin’ together since before we even left spacedock.” 

Surprise flashed across Malcolm’s face and Trip had to tighten his grip to keep Malcolm from pulling away. 

“They  _ what _ ?”

“I never said anythin’ ‘bout it, but I heard some crewmen talkin’ ‘bout us shortly after the whole shuttlepod incident. An’ Cap’n told me not long ago that the Morian’s we met? Their Cap’n swore you an’ me were a couple.” Trip paused to swallow past the lump in his throat. Panic and horror flashed through Malcolm’s eyes, and he felt his own chest tightening in fear. Fear that he was going to screw this all up before it even had a chance to get up on its feet. “There’s been rumors ‘bout us for awhile now, Malcolm. You never heard ‘em?”

“No. Never.” Malcolm shook his head, his voice rough and quiet. He paused, though, a thoughtful look finally replacing some of the panic. “Madeline does frequently tell me you and I would make an attractive couple…” he looked up, the panic back again as he rushed to continue, “but she’s always saying ridiculous things like that. Ever since we were teenagers. I…” 

“What if it wasn’t ridiculous?”

Silence fell between them. Malcolm’s jaw just slack enough that his thin, pink lips parted in the most inviting way. The croaked out, “What?” barely audible. 

Steeling himself for whatever might happen next, Trip brought his hand up to cup Malcolm’s cheek gently. The faint traces of stubble tickled his palm as he brushed his thumb lightly over a sinfully high cheekbone. “What if it wasn’t ridiculous? What if...hell, Malcolm. What if  _ we’ve _ been the ridiculous ones? Takin’ two damn years t’ see what e’erybody else saw in two days.”

“What are you saying, Trip?”

Trip leaned in closer, head dipped towards Malcolm’s until he could feel the soft, damp puffs of stuttered breath against his lips. Eyes still locked on Malcolm’s, he smiled softly. “I’m sayin’, if people are gonna talk ‘bout us anyway, we might as well give ‘em reason t’ talk ‘bout us.”

“Trip, I--”

Malcolm’s words flittered out as Trip finally pressed in for a firm but tender first kiss. Just a chaste kiss at first, until he felt Malcolm whimper, parting his lips enough that Trip was able to tug the bottom one in, the tip of his tongue swiping over it before delving deeper for a better taste of the man in his arms. There was nothing demanding about it. No struggle for power as they each took turns exploring the other’s mouth, nibbling on lips, and smiling like fools each time the other gave a sigh or murmur in appreciation. 

At some point Malcolm’s hands had found their way to Trip’s body, one raking up and down through damp, dark blond hair, the other curled into the waistband of his sweats. Trip’s own hands had gone to explore Malcolm, too. He held Malcolm close with one arm wrapped possessively around that slight waist, their bodies flush from chest to knees. His other hand still cupping Malcolm’s face, trailing down to brush feather light over his neck and shoulder before coming back up to feel his jaw muscles work under his palm. 

When they finally pulled back for air, Trip brushed his nose against Malcolm’s, dove in for another soft kiss, and sighed. “Stay. Please stay, darlin’.”

Malcolm didn’t answer. Not with words at least. He answered with his gentle, fond smile; with more brushes of kisses as he fought to catch his breath; with a tug to Trip’s hip to get him moving back towards the bunk. 

If they both ended up late to their morning shifts, neither cared. They parted ways outside Trip’s door with murmured goodbyes and soft, carefree kisses, each of them with equally damp hair from a shared shower. With blissful smiles in place, at least when the rumors reached their ears -- and they did, eventually -- they could happily confirm what people had heard and finally put the rumors of their undercover love to rest.

  
  



End file.
